


Fine Print

by Dark_Ruby_Regalia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Figuring shit out, Fuck First & Talk Later, Jealousy, M/M, PWP, Relationship Skills (Thanks Nyx), Scar Acceptance, Threesome - M/M/M, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ruby_Regalia/pseuds/Dark_Ruby_Regalia
Summary: “This changes nothing between us,” Ignis said. “Nothing. He knows about you and he accepts what we have. I wouldn’t see him if he didn’t.”A tear rolled hot down Noctis’ cheek, and in mirror, its twin blazed down Ignis’. “Okay,” Noctis said, though it felt like hollow acceptance. Ignis kissed his tear away.And then, with that tear still damp on his lips, Ignis said, “There’s one more thing… You know him.”And it's Nyx. Fucking. Ulric.There's a lot of shit to figure out, and Noctis isn't handling it particularly well. He is, however, very good at giving head...
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 19
Kudos: 37





	Fine Print

“I’m seeing someone.”

It took one very heavy minute for Noctis to process those words, making sure he hadn’t misheard. Still, he couldn’t quite force them to make sense.

“What?” His voice was dry, flat, lifeless. Playing dead. 

“I’m seeing someone,” Ignis repeated, quietly, unsure of himself in a way Noctis had seldom seen. Ignis was never unsure. “At first it was just casual sex, but… it’s grown into something more.” He hung his head, unable to meet Noctis’ eye. And he was perfectly still, leaning there against the kitchen counter, a dishcloth bundled and forgotten in one hand. This had come out of nowhere, though Ignis had been quiet all evening. Now Noctis knew why.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He was still processing. He knew it. Knew by how absolutely devoid of emotion he felt despite his reeling mind, his sickened stomach. This would be like one of those cuts, he thought — and he’d had a few of them — that were so clean, so deep, the pain comes with a delay, after the body figures out how to communicate such perfect trauma to the mind. 

“I’m telling you now.” 

Well, that was true. And the horrible thing was — the realisation that further curdled Noctis’ gut, threatening to return the meal they’d just shared — it had been Noctis’ idea. Well, Gladiolus’, really — he’d delivered it in jest one night, when he’d slapped Ignis on the back after link-strike practice and invited him out to a few drinks, and Ignis had refused, like he always did on Fridays.

“Iggy,” he’d said, “you know I respect your commitment to your job and whatever, but if all you do is hang out with Noctis, you’re never going to experience everything life has to offer. It’s a bigger world. Do yourself a favour and get out more.”

He hadn’t known Ignis and Noctis had secretly been sleeping together the past year and a half… 

Noctis had brought it up that night.

“He’s right, you know,” he’d said, after dwelling on it for hours, feeling the truth of it swell like dread in his chest. “Gladiolus, I mean. About getting out more.”

“What of it, Noct?” Ignis asked distractedly, still sweat-damp and sex-warm, his body limp in the bedding beside Noctis, one arm thrown boneless over Noctis’ chest. He was so beautiful like that, glistening and pink-lipped, messed up, worn out and laid bare.

“I keep you hostage, in a way. Your work revolves around me, and now your private life too? It’s unfair. I can’t ‘get out more,’ like the rest of you can — like Gladio says — but you should.” He’d whispered it as though it was a terrible burden; a shackle dragging at his soul.

Ignis had lifted himself on his elbows, leaned forward and kissed Noctis so sweetly, so tenderly, that Noctis almost burst into tears. “I choose this. I choose  _ you. _ If I wanted to get out more, I would.” He trailed fingers featherlight along the line of Noctis’ jaw, his touch every bit as reverent and revelatory as it had been the first time they’d crossed the line of propriety together and never looked back.

“Just promise me that if something, or… or  _ someone  _ comes along — an opportunity with a limited window — that you’ll take it, okay? Don’t shrink your life on my account. I couldn’t stand it, knowing I’d held you back.”

“I disagree with—”

“Promise me, Iggy,” Noctis had pleaded, then. “I can’t give you the world, but I want you to have it.”

And Ignis had looked at him, deep into him, searching through him the way only Ignis could, and he’d said “Okay.”

“Noct?” 

Noctis snapped out of the recollection with a whole-body jolt. “I’m fine,” he snipped, far too quickly, betraying himself. Ignis did not call him out on it.

“I will end things with him if it will come between you and me. Just say the word.”

How dare he say such a thing? How  _ dare  _ he. Finally, Noctis’ anger had something to fixate on. “I could never ask that of you, Ignis. I can’t believe you’d think me capable of such selfish requests. Don’t you dare put that decision on me.” Ignis was hurt by this, and such was their bond, Noctis was too. “Why bother telling me now? You could’ve kept the secret. I’d never have known.” He was already cataloguing their recent past, searching retroactively for any sign at all — any hint that this had been going on. There was nothing.

“I had to tell him about you.”

That might have been the biggest surprise of the night. Noctis blinked rapidly, his mouth fell open. No words came.  _ Nobody  _ knew about the two of them; there was nobody they trusted enough. And besides, there was too much precious freedom in living the secret to give it all up for honesty.

Ignis continued. “Because I offer my love to you unconditionally, I cannot offer the same to him. He deserved to know he would never have all of me.” He sounded close to tears, just as Noctis did.

Anger still dominated. “So you love him now?”

“No, I mean—” Ignis threw the dishcloth onto the countertop, finally showing his agitation— “ _ maybe, _ but… it’s too early to tell, and it’s not the same as ours. But I think he’s in love with me.”

Noctis drooped where he stood. He clutched his stomach, then turned and stumbled away, wanting distance, wanting shelter, wanting anything but this wretched conversation and Gladiolus’ correctness and his past insistences and Ignis’ right to have more than he, in his sheltered little corridor life, could ever provide. 

Ignis dashed across the room to follow him, catching him by his slumped shoulders, turning him around so they were face to face, so close, so close, yet now so very far apart. “This changes nothing between us,” Ignis said. “Nothing. He accepts what we have. I wouldn’t see him if he didn’t.”

A tear rolled hot down Noctis’ cheek, and in mirror, its twin blazed down Ignis’. “Okay,” Noctis said, though it felt like hollow acceptance. Ignis kissed his tear away. 

And then, with that tear still damp on his lips, Ignis said, “There’s one more thing… You know him.”

The pain finally came.

~

_ Nyx Ulric. _ That fucking hero. Even worse than  _ knowing  _ him was admitting that he  _ liked _ the guy. Found him dazzlingly handsome, disarmingly charming. Noctis had blushed more than once when Nyx turned his dimpled grin in his direction. Fuck that guy. It was no wonder Ignis fell for him, and no wonder Nyx wanted Ignis. They were, the both of them, extraordinary. 

_ I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, _ Noctis muttered to himself as he scowled down the concrete corridors to the outdoor training rink.  _ I hate him, _ he added, because no matter how many times he repeated the mantra, it never felt like enough. And because the second he stopped, the truth caught up with him.  _ No you don’t, no you don’t…  _

And to add insult to injury, he’d checked his training roster, and who was he scheduled to fight that morning? 

_ Him. _

Nyx. Fucking. Ulric. 

Adrenaline was scouring his veins raw. He was used to being anxious — impossibly shy as he was, to the consternation of every publicist he’d ever been tasked to work with — but this was infinitely worse. He thought about calling it off, but right there alongside his anxiety was his determination to give Ignis what he needed. To not be the child everyone unanimously treated him as, with Ignis the sole exception. He could take this. And he knew that on a good day, he could take Nyx Ulric. They’d sparred together many times before; this was just another bit of business for both of them. 

His resolve crumbled the second he saw Nyx leaning in the archway ahead, leg propped casually on the wall, arms crossed, backlit by sunshine so as to render any expression on his face invisible. Noctis had to shield his eyes to look at him.

“Hey,” Nyx said, so easily. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Anger, his great emotional scapegoat.

Nyx dared put a hand on his arm, as though he could possibly offer any reassurance. “This doesn’t have to be awkward,” he said, matter-of-fact and reasonable and grown-up and shit. Of course Noctis’ mind chose now to remind him how much older Nyx was: ten years older than Ignis. Twelve years older than himself. Experienced. Worldly. How many lovers had there been before Ignis came along? Ignis had been more experimental in bed lately… 

Noctis shrugged him off and pushed past into the arena, thankful that at least these sparring matches were so routine as to go unobserved. It would just be he and Nyx here, and however this played out, only the two of them would know.

“He’s making it awkward,” Nyx muttered with his usual sardonic humour, rolling his eyes for the benefit of nobody, following Noctis onto the field.

Noctis was fighting dirty, and hated himself for it, and worse than that, it wasn’t helping him at all. Nyx was the outlaw glaive — he got his ironic  _ hero _ reputation by breaking all the rules and coming out on top, saving the day. Nothing Noctis threw at him came as a surprise, no matter how hard Noctis pushed, how low he stooped. Nyx took it all, for once the picture of passive professionalism. That only made Noctis try harder to unsettle him. 

“What are we doing here, huh?” Nyx asked, voice even despite his breath coming heavy with their exertions. Beneath his dirt-streaked brow his eyes were perfect clear-sky blue. Paler than Noctis’ ocean tempest. More striking.

They were locked together, blade to blade, pressing against each other in a battle of strength Noctis knew he could not win. Nyx was, quite simply, bigger than he was: taller, broader, dense with wiry muscles forged on the battlefield rather than faked here in the safety of the Crownsguard facilities.

“I said it was fine,” Noctis hissed, gritting his teeth. “I don’t have to like it.” 

“I’m okay with the two of you having your thing. Really I am.”

_ A thing? _ Is that what he thought Ignis and Noctis had? Just some indefinable, formless  _ thing? _ Noctis roared in anger and flung himself sideways, throwing his blade toward the edge of the arena, threading himself into the disturbance of reality that trailed its trajectory, warping all but instantaneously away from Nyx in a spontaneous eruption of crystalline sparks. The space between moments was transcendentally null, and for that fraction of a second, Noctis’ mind stilled, only to scream all the louder the second he re-materialised where his blade had lodged into the wooden arena walls. He pulled it loose with excessive force. 

“What are we doing here, Noctis?” Nyx called again, pacing at the centre of the arena. “Are we practising our evasions now?” He too threw one of his kukris, which Noctis side-stepped by second nature just as Nyx disappeared in his own shower of sparks. 

Noctis didn’t wait for him to reappear at his side; he threw his blade again, warping away, and warping again as Nyx kept close on his trail, and again and again. It was another futile display of disgrace — of all his training partners, Nyx was one of the very few who favoured a similar magic set, and he wielded it better than anyone. Not even Ignis had access to this power. 

_ Stealing my dad’s magic and stealing my boyfriend,  _ Noctis thought, in those blips of materialisation; then he’d fling himself again into another space between, flying around the arena lightning fast, just barely keeping his lead. He had one goal and one goal only: to outlast Nyx’s magical reserves. He just hoped he wouldn’t run out of his own first. While Noctis drew on his own source, Nyx was channeling King Regis’, which was stretched thin at the best of times. Nyx had more practice, though… and an uncanny aptitude. 

Then it happened. Noctis landed heavy against the hilt of his blade, his reserve spent. He buckled over, gasping for breath, too exhausted to flinch when Nyx’s kukri lodged itself in the wall near his head… but Nyx did not follow it through. Noctis turned just in time to see Nyx materialise too early, metres above the ground, then fall hard, landing in the dirt with a sickening, slack thud. Then he was still. 

Wasn’t this exactly what Noctis had wanted?

For a suffocating moment, all he could hear were his own gasping breaths ragged in his lungs. “Nyx?” he called out, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He broke into a stumbling sprint, warp-sick and depleted though he was, and he fell to his knees at Nyx’s side.

Nyx coughed, sucking air into his lungs in wracking, wretched wheezes. Noctis pulled a restorative potion from his armiger, unstoppered the bottle and held it out, only to have Nyx wave it away.

“I’m okay,” he rasped, and coughed again. “Just winded.”

“You sure?”

Nyx nodded, affecting a grin, his teeth covered in a pink film of blood. 

“Oh my gods, you’re bleeding,” Noctis said, panicking, fumbling with the restorative as he tried to bring it back to Nyx’s mouth. 

“Bit my tongue when I landed.” Nyx’s breath was steadying. “Believe me, I’ve done worse.” 

“I’m sorry,” Noctis whispered. “I’m really sorry…”

Nyx shook his head, dismissing the apology. He sat up slowly, grimacing. “Let me tell you something, kid.” He turned his face away and spat a globule of red spittle into the dirt, then turned back to Noctis, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Jealousy is one heck of a nasty ammunition. And ammunition has only one purpose: to destroy things. It’s a perfectly natural and normal emotion to have, and I don’t blame you for it — I’m plenty jealous myself. But while we can’t help feeling it, it is entirely up to us what we do with it. It’s our choice to load the chamber; it’s our choice to pull the trigger. You understand, right?”

Noctis said nothing. Just sat there, silent, immobile, while Nyx stood up with a grimace, dusted himself off, then left the arena. 

~

“I’m sorry about today,” Noctis blurted over dinner. 

Ignis snapped his head up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know. The training incident.”

“With Nyx?”

Noctis nodded, pushing his food about listlessly, burning with shame. Hearing Ignis say his name hadn’t gotten any easier; Noctis flinched every time.

“What training incident?” Ignis raised an eyebrow in query. Could he really not know?

“He didn’t say anything?”

“He told me he was your sparring partner, but aside from that—” he shrugged, then scooped up another mouthful. “Did something happen?”

“He was limping when he left.” It was part of the truth, at least. Had Nyx really not told Ignis about it?

“Hazard of the job, really. It is a fight, after all.”

~

Ignis came into the apartment backwards, pushing the door open with his shoulder and shuffling a full load of grocery bags awkwardly into the room. Noctis rushed across to help, but as ever, Ignis had it all under control — a sole operator, in so many ways. He rarely needed assistance, and certainly never asked for it.

As soon as he put the groceries down, though, it was clear something was amiss. When Noctis tried to kiss him, he was too distanced to kiss back, busying himself instead with putting everything away. 

“Iggy?”

“Hmm?”

“Something’s up. Just tell me.”

Ignis closed the cupboard door and took a breath. “Nyx will drop round really quickly some time tonight.”

_ Wh...what?  _ “Here?”

“Yes, here.”

“This is my apartment, Ignis.”

“I know, I know… and if there was any other way, I swear, I’d take it.”

Noctis was too furious — too panicked — to deal with this well. “Fine,” he said, and he stormed to the front door for his jacket and keys. “Do what you need. Send me a message when he’s gone.”

“Noctis, wait!” There was a desperation in Ignis voice that stopped Noctis in his tracks. He stood there, hand poised on the doorhandle. “I accidentally left some documents in his apartment. He won’t even come up — he’ll call from the street and I’ll go down to him.”

“Why does he have to come  _ here  _ though?” Noctis’ distress had made it to his voice, and he sounded pathetic. He was trying really hard not to think about Ignis so distracted at Nyx’s house that he forgot his work. Gods, had he ever done that here, with Noctis? Yes, plenty of times, usually because Noctis was kissing him at the door, doing everything in his power to delay their parting. Remembering this did not help.

“Because I need them tomorrow, and I’m staying here overnight.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come.” It was so astonishingly simple — why didn’t Ignis get it? Just keep them separate. That’s all Noctis asked.

“I haven’t seen you in days. I miss you. This is our night together.”

“I just—” 

They were interrupted by a sharp rap at the door. Both of them gaped at each other, upset and bewildered, then Ignis answered it. 

“This wasn’t the arrangement,” Ignis hissed through the gap in the door.

“I know,” Nyx said. The way his fingers lingered on Ignis’ chest as he pushed Ignis aside might as well have been driving his kukris though Noctis’ ribs. “But we need to talk.” He walked right on in.

“This isn’t the time or the place.” Ignis trailed him helplessly, pleadingly, at a complete loss as to what to do.

“I don’t mean you and me.” Nyx came to stand before Noctis, but he looked at Ignis when he spoke. “I mean all three of us.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Noctis said. He’d retreated to his flatline deadpan again, leaving the situation in mind, if not in body, trapped as he was in his own home.

“We do.” Nyx was speaking gently but insistently. “I want this.” His expression softened. “I want this very much. But I can’t do it if I have to tiptoe everywhere, one person’s dirty little secret and another’s resentment. If we’re going to do this, we need to talk it out. Together.” 

Noctis was ignoring the way Nyx’s hands clenched; ignoring how his voice wavered; ignoring all the signs that showed he was afraid and uncomfortable and here anyway, trying to get this right. “You have what you want, don’t you?” 

“You don’t understand,” Nyx said. “When I asked for more, Ignis said no. He said there was too much fine-print to go into. But I insisted — I can be very persistent, if not persuasive — and eventually he told me. Imagine my shock when the fine-print he referred to was his love-affair with the Crown Prince of Lucis.” He huffed an incredulous laugh, reliving that moment of revelation as he dredged it up for the retelling. “The deal was, if I wanted him, I had to accept you.” He looked Noctis straight in the eye. “I said yes.” He raised one hand, finger pointed, and swung it slowly from Ignis to Noctis. “I said yes to  _ both  _ of you—” he swung back to Ignis, poking at the air in front of his face for emphasis— “not just to him.”

There was a resounding silence. Nyx dropped his hand back to his side. He looked longingly, forlornly, at Ignis — the look of a man whose heart was about to break. Noctis wanted to ignore that too, but… he couldn’t. Despite how furiously he was trying to reject it, the plain truth was he  _ still  _ liked the guy —  _ really  _ liked him — and all of this, however confronting, only elevated his regard. And he knew, somewhere deep down where he could avoid looking, all his resistances were baseless; that he trusted Ignis more than he trusted himself; that he did, however gracelessly he affected it, want Ignis to have the world, and Nyx could offer him experiences Noctis never could. That was too precious a potential to drown beneath the deluge of his petty jealousies.

Through the roar of his racing heart and the clamber of his anger, he brought those sentiments to the fore, finally making space for them to breathe and to grow.

“Did you really refer to me as the fine-print?” Noctis whispered, looking sideways at Ignis.

“Alright, I admit, it wasn’t the best choice of words.” Ignis pulled off his glasses and pinched at the bridge of his nose. His suffering was palpable.

Noctis couldn’t help it: he laughed. Not much, but enough to draw confused looks from Nyx and Ignis both. “I’m sorry, but it’s… Well, it’s kind of funny.”

Ignis dropped his head to hide his faint, nervous smile. 

“So,” Nyx said, relaxing just a bit. “Can we sort our shit out?”

“Maybe you should stay for dinner.” Noctis couldn’t believe those words had come out of his own mouth.

~

Nyx, straight off work and still in uniform, asked, awkwardly, to use the shower. And even more awkwardly, to borrow a shirt. Ignis furnished him with one of his own, and had pressed a fresh towel into his arms, and Nyx disappeared into Noctis’ bathroom, where he’d be using Noctis’ soap and Noctis’ shampoo and drying his balls on Noctis’ linens. Noctis was trying not to think about it. 

He stood by Ignis’ side in the kitchen while they prepared a meal, listening to the muffled spatter of water from the shower as though it was a roar too loud to speak over. There was an uneasy, jagged tension between them — a pretence of closeness, which only served to amplify their discomfort. Things had never been like this between them — not once, ever since Ignis showed up in Noctis’ life when they were both children. Not even when Noctis had rebelled in his teens, disaffected and angry, burdened by an undiagnosed depression. He’d lashed out with his shame to push Ignis away, then, and their connection had been tested, but proved unbreakable — a pure, glimmering thread, stronger than time. It wasn’t even this bad when Noctis had leaned over in the car one night and kissed Ignis on the lips — his first kiss, uncertain yet determined, chaste and laden with confession. Ignis had turned him down, gently, correctly, kindly, then proceeded to help him write an essay on civil unrest within the city walls, trying to pretend nothing untoward had happened at all. They woke up the next morning in each other’s arms, and never looked back.

This  _ thing  _ with Nyx, though… It sat differently between them.

Ignis was tense, moving around the kitchen with automaton economy, and more than once he took a deep, carefully controlled breath — something Noctis knew he did when he was calming himself.

“He likes you,” Ignis said. 

“He doesn’t have to.”

“But he does.”

“Well he really is a hero, then, isn’t he.”

“He is committed to doing what he thinks is the right thing, even if it goes against someone else’s definition of. He’s a good man, Noct.”

Noctis huffed an exasperated, dismissive laugh.  _ A good man. And what does that make me? Just a foolish boy… _ “Do you talk to him like that about me?”

“Of course…” It was barely a whisper. Ignis was  _ scared.  _

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I would be living a lie if I withheld such things.”

Noctis didn’t know what to say that wasn’t some kind of lie of his own. A rude dismissal of Ignis’ honesty; anything at all to disconnect his heart. He was spared having to reply at all when Nyx emerged from the bathroom, wearing the t-shirt he’d given to Ignis a year before when he’d first cleared out half of his closet to secretly move Ignis in, and he smelled just the way Noctis did… 

~

They didn’t talk over dinner. Not  _ that talk, _ at least. Nyx — despite being obviously nervous — kept up an inane commentary about his day, the weather, his schedule for the week, an upcoming mission outside the walls… And then Noctis asked about what it was like out there, and Nyx answered him with wry honesty, irreverent in the face of his commitment to the crown yet respectful to everyone in the lands beyond… It was a perspective Noctis seldom had access to — the  _ other  _ side — and he leaned forward for each answer, elbows on the table, forgetting for a moment that Nyx was there to steal his lover. 

And when he snuck glances at Ignis, reminding himself, he found Ignis always looking back at him, a misty-eyed  _ something  _ on his face that Noctis couldn’t figure out, to begin with; it was raw, honest, as plain and as bright as the midday sun, and eventually Noctis recognised it as admiration — pride and adoration and love all vying for expression. 

Maybe it was because Noctis held so much of Ignis’ attention that he let his defences drop. Maybe it was because he was tired. Maybe it was because Nyx’s dimple made his breath hitch, and seeing Nyx so uncomfortable yet determined to see the night through endeared him; his vulnerability, or — more honestly — his choice to let that vulnerability show. He was putting himself on the line, and jealous or not, Noctis admired him for it. 

He had no idea how they were supposed to talk this out, though… 

After dinner, they migrated to the lounge, and Noctis tucked himself into an armchair cradling a hot drink, all alone opposite Ignis and Nyx who shared the sofa. There was a building tension in the air — something ominous, laden, faltering on the threshold of its own inevitability. Noctis wanted to hold it off for as long as he possibly could. And besides, he’d had a few thoughts spring unbidden into his mind, and was more confused than ever about where he stood. Action speaks where words fail, right? He set his mug down.

He crawled from his chair onto the sofa, directly into Ignis’ lap, where he straddled Ignis’ thighs, rest his arms over Ignis’ shoulders and leaned into a single, slow, sensuous kiss. When he broke off, Ignis was staring at him, moist lips parted, trying this best to read Noctis’ mind. Noctis removed his glasses, then leaned back to set them on the coffee table. 

“What are you doing, Noct?” Ignis asked, whispering, barely audible.

“Should I leave? Is that the hint I’m supposed to be getting here?” Nyx asked, crossing his arms defensively, dangerously, every trace of his vulnerability gone. 

Noctis rolled his hips into Ignis’, feeling Ignis rouse in his trousers. He watched Ignis as he did it — saw his cheeks pinken, his breath stutter — and he repeated the action, a confirmation. He looked over at Nyx. “Didn’t you say yes to both of us?” 

Nyx’s jaw dropped. 

“And besides,” Noctis continued, reaching across to take Nyx by the hand, pulling it back towards himself, between his body and Ignis’, ghosting over Ignis’ abdomen, hovering over Ignis’ fly. “Apparently he likes it when you watch.” He pressed Nyx’s hand against Ignis’ growing erection, and Ignis groaned with his spike in arousal, lifting his hips into the contact. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. 

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to render him speechless,” Nyx said, the jest in his words undermined by the gravel in his voice. Ignis smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. There was a timidity in his compliance; a reservation, as though he knew how tenuous this situation was, and how compromised his position. He’d fallen passive and unthreatening, though no doubt still alert and ready to respond. 

Noctis slithered from Ignis’ lap to puddle on the floor between his feet, uncharacteristically emboldened by the power he wielded in the moment, by how much he was enjoying seeing Ignis in this position. He unbuttoned Ignis’ trousers and pressed a kiss to the skin low on his belly, parting his fly, exposing the eager bulge of him straining against the fine cotton of his briefs. Nyx was watching his every move intently, also reserved, also hesitant to act. They were both letting Noctis lead. He mouthed wetly at the taut fabric, exploring the shape of Ignis’ arousal where it lay trapped against the crease of his inner thigh. 

From above, Ignis whispered his name, instinctively tangling his fingers in Noctis’ hair. This was what he always did when Noctis gave him head: he’d hold Noctis’ hair out of the way so he could watch his cock disappear into his mouth, and he’d guide the pace sometimes, and he’d tug that handful of hair with growing insistence, and he’d drag Noctis back up to him to indulge a kiss made potent by his own spend. Noctis wanted Nyx to see that; to show him how they laid their claim. He tucked his fingers beneath Ignis’ waistband and lifted it over his straining cock, releasing it as it pulsed, beading with anticipation.

Noctis had come this far on bravado and bluster, but his nerves caught up with him as he sat there contemplating his next move, stroking Ignis slow and low on his shaft while he stalled. He made the mistake of looking at Nyx, who was fixated on him, his pupils blown black, his mouth slack, one of his braids fallen loose from where it usually lay tucked behind his ear, and Noctis almost stopped right there and then — worried he’d be judged and found wanting. But Nyx nodded at him, once, a gesture that surpassed encouragement and communicated instead his raw need for more, and Noctis’ cock swelled to life. He re-settled his position to let it find its space, conscious of Nyx being the only person other than Ignis to see him in any state of arousal. But then he saw Nyx’s trousers were tented in his lap, too, and Nyx was doing nothing whatsoever to hide it. 

Noctis returned his attention to Ignis. He leaned forward, then ran one long, experimental lick from the base of Ignis’ cock to the tip. Ignis gasped, his hips lifting unbidden, and Noctis closed his eyes and took the head of him into his mouth, keeping his focus on only this moment, only this movement, only this particular point of contact and the way Ignis filled him. His heart was hammering and a tremble of uncertainty interrupted the grace of his rhythm, but he kept going, muscle-memory taking over where artistry slipped, until he was finally able to lose himself to the task — this, his favourite way to pleasure — and he angled himself to take Ignis deeper, making love to him from between his knees. 

The next moan he heard did not come from Ignis. 

Noctis cracked his eyes open and peered sideways to see Nyx palming himself through his trousers.

“He told me you were good at this,” Nyx muttered, aware he had Noctis’ attention. “He was right.”

Noctis didn’t know how to respond to that. In the back of his mind he puzzled over the circumstances that might lead to Ignis divulging their bedroom habits, but did his best to ignore it. He closed his eyes again, laving up and over Ignis’ head as he rose on an upstroke, opening his throat as he slid back down. Ignis’ hands in his hair wound tighter — communicating a premonition Noctis was minutely attuned to. He steeled himself as Ignis’ thighs trembled and his cock bulged, keeping his rhythm steady even as Ignis bucked erratically beneath him, pulling his hair harder, forgetting himself as he neared his crisis, then toppling over without ceremony.

Noctis worked him through it, swallowing each spurt, easing his pressure as the tremors of orgasm waned until he was pressing barely-there kisses to the tip of Ignis’ head. Then Ignis disentangled his fingers, and Noctis sat between his feet, turning to face Nyx, resting his cheek on Ignis’ thigh. He swiped one errant bead of come from the side of his lip, and before he could wipe it from his finger, Nyx leaned forward and took hold of his wrist.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and lust-roughened. Noctis, though confused, nodded once, and Nyx drew his hand nearer his mouth, holding Noctis’ finger outstretched, and he took it into the heat of his mouth, wrapped his tongue around it and sucked it clean. The two of them paused there, clear-sky blue to ocean tempest, gaze-locked while Nyx withdrew Noctis’ finger, his bottom lip catching on it minutely before release, springing back into place when contact was finally broken. “Thank you,” he said, intense and unsmiling. He released Noctis’ hand. “For all of this.” He stroked Noctis’ cheek, and Noctis didn’t pull away. “And look at you,” Nyx muttered, turning his attention to Ignis. “Crumpled and panting with your cock out.” Finally he smiled, pure adoration. “It suits you.” He leaned back on the sofa, and Ignis reached out for him. 

They kissed, slow and lingering, and Noctis felt his jealousy pang sharp in his gut, but Ignis sought his hand, twining their fingers together, squeezing him tight. Not letting go. So Noctis let his jealousy wash through him and trickle away, and he watched their kiss deepen and gather heat, and Nyx drew himself to a crouch so he could lean over Ignis, kissing him from above, the muscles in his arms bunching as he adjusted the undeniable situation in his trousers, his touch pausing overlong there, unable to give up the slight friction entirely. Ignis’ cock began to rouse again, swelling and nudging at Noctis’ cheek…

“If we’re really doing this,” Nyx breathed, interrupting himself with another kiss, “maybe we can move it to the bedroom?” He and Ignis both looked to Noctis, awaiting his word. He nodded again, and again once only, and Nyx stood, then held out his hand to help Noctis up. Noctis took it. 

“If you’re sure,” Ignis said, finally speaking as he rose, and hearing the waver of uncertainty in his voice solidified Noctis’ resolve. He could do this, for Ignis.

“I’m sure.” 

Then, with an abandon Noctis seldom saw in him, Ignis stepped out of his already half-fallen trousers, and left them there on the lounge-room floor.

~

“Is that a king-size bed?” Nyx asked, upon stepping through the bedroom door. He leaned into Noctis’ ear conspiratorially, dropping to a whisper. “But you’re still just a prince.” He breathed his words against Noctis’ neck, and a shiver ran down Noctis’ spine. He sucked in a steadying breath, and Nyx chuckled, wrapping his arms around Ignis. “I really want to fuck you,” he said, pragmatic, as though it was yet another discussion about the weather. “Slow and deep…” 

He began to unbutton Ignis’ shirt, guiding him backward to the bed, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as his shirt fell open, slipping from his body at the insistence of Nyx’s roaming hands. He re-settled Ignis’ necklace — thumbing at the skull-shaped bead where it nestled between his clavicles. He threw a knowing glance over his shoulder at Noctis, and Noctis knew that Ignis had told him about the necklace too — that it was a gift that came with a pledge of hearts. 

“Doing okay?” Nyx asked, and for a second Noctis felt his anger surge again — why wasn’t Ignis asking these questions? But then he saw Ignis smile at him, warm and beautiful, and he remembered Ignis didn’t need to ask to know — he never had. And Ignis had been watching him all evening… 

“He’s okay,” Ignis said, and beckoned for Noctis to join them, pulling him between their bodies, kissing him earnestly, his bared cock hard and poking at him bluntly. He undid Noctis’ pants slowly, then pushed them down. 

Behind him, Nyx reached around his waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

“Leave it on,” Noctis said, and Nyx let go of it instantly. 

“Of course,” he said, without any hint of judgement. He leaned over Noctis to peck Ignis once on the cheek, then stepped away from both of them, pulling his own borrowed shirt over his head and dropping his pants before crawling onto the bed. He fell back dramatically onto Noctis’ pillows, completely naked, grinning hopefully, his dimple etched deep and delectable into his cheek.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ignis mumbled. 

“So,” Nyx said, stroking himself languidly as though it were an afterthought, “how’re we going to balance this?”

Noctis, still in his t-shirt and underpants, walked to his bedside cabinet and rummaged through the drawer for his lubricant. He threw it at Nyx, who caught it easily. 

“I need more than that,” he said.

“It’s a full bottle.”

Nyx laughed. “I mean condoms. I didn’t exactly come prepared for this, myself.”

“I have nothing,” Noctis said. To which Ignis made a strange, non-committal grumble, then left the room.

Nyx and Noctis were alone together for the first time, and for want of a better idea, Noctis sidled onto the bed, taking furtive looks at Nyx’s body. Nyx knew he was looking, and rested his hands across his belly, letting Noctis’ gaze wander at whim. 

His erection was thicker than Ignis’ — much thicker than his own — and his foreskin folded soft and silken around the rose-red dome of his cockhead. Noctis bit at his bottom lip, and seeing this, Nyx huffed a hungry laugh.

“I know the two of you have never slept with anyone else,” he said, and Noctis flicked his gaze to Nyx’s face. “But I’ve slept with plenty, so we’re being safe, you know?” Noctis nodded. “I’ve been tested though. Waiting on results still.”

“So it really is pretty serious, then. You and Ignis.”

“I want it to be.”

“I want him to be happy.”

“And he wants you to be happy, which puts me entirely at your mercy.” 

“He wants to protect me,” Noctis said. It wasn’t a pleasant admission.

“Isn’t that his job?”

Hearing those words stung, harsh and disorientating, spoken innocently though they were, and Noctis dropped his gaze again, seeking distraction, drawn again to Nyx’s body.

“You have a scar,” he said, surprised to see fractured tendrils of raised skin web outward from a nexus high on Nyx’s chest. 

“Don’t think I don’t notice you’re changing the subject. But yeah, I’ve got a lot of scars.” Nyx lifted a hand to stroke at those particular marks, following their tributaries across his body. 

“Me too,” Noctis said. “Well, not a lot. Just one.” Heat crept to his cheeks, but he took hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it upward. He faltered halfway, overwhelmingly shy. 

“Hey,” Nyx said gently, soothingly. “It’s okay,” and he sat up and shuffled over, kneeling before him, placing his hands on top of Noctis’. Together, they lifted Noctis’ shirt up over his head, Nyx’s hands trailing Noctis’ flanks as they rose, then returning to his sides once the shirt was flung away, holding him reassuringly.

“It’s on my back,” Noctis said. “And it’s really big. Did Ignis tell you about that too?”

“No. He’s very private… Well, mostly.” Nyx slid a hand down his spine, feeling the ragged edges of healed flesh, acknowledging and accepting them without remark. Then he moved on, dropping to the waistband of Noctis’ underwear. “Shall we take care of all of it while we’ve got some momentum going?” he quirked a small grin, lightening the mood instantly, and Noctis so easily lifted his hips to acquiesce. 

Nyx was the second person in his life to ever undress him like this, and the gravity of that realisation hit Noctis hard. His throat constricted, and in a moment of prickly-eyed panic he worried he was about to cry. Then Ignis returned, and froze in the doorway upon seeing Noctis naked in Nyx’s hands, and he and Noctis locked eyes, and Noctis recognised something new in Ignis’ expression — something dark and corrupting, harrowing and all-too heartbreakingly familiar: jealousy. Noctis mustered a smile for him, and Ignis took a faltering step forward, a connected ribbon of wrapped condoms trailing long in his hand. 

Nyx, wholly unaware of their unspoken turmoil, giggled. “Is that the whole box? You overestimate my stamina,” he said, reaching for the ribbon, tearing off a single packet and letting the rest fall to the floor. 

Ignis recovered himself quickly. “I was acting more for haste than for practicality,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, not once taking his eyes off of Noctis. “The bloody things were buried at the bottom of the bag, and I grew impatient.” 

“What a novelty,” Nyx teased, and he pulled Ignis to him, running his hands eagerly across the planes of his body, lingering on his nubbling nipples in ways Noctis knew Ignis liked. Ignis had softened to flaccid, but Nyx teasingly nipped at his throat while he coaxed him expertly back to hardness. “There you are,” he whispered — intimate small-talk, not taking Noctis into mind — but soon after, he turned Ignis around and laid him down, so that Ignis’ back was against his chest, and Nyx motioned wordlessly for Noctis to join them — that this position was a gift, and face to face, Noctis and Ignis could have each other’s full attention. It was a consideration Noctis was more grateful for than he could express; he nodded his thanks, then lay down in Ignis’ arms, and Ignis smiled at him shyly, sheepishly, because all of this was so wild, so thoroughly and vastly unexpected, that what else was there to do but find it amusing? 

The lubricant cap snapping open drove this new reality home. Ignis’ eyes widened, and he swallowed. 

“May I?” Nyx asked, for the second time that night, and again he directed it to Noctis. This time, though, it was a much bigger question:  _ May I fuck your boyfriend on your bed while you watch?  _

“It’s what you want, right?” Noctis asked, brushing hair from Ignis’ forehead, studying him intently, searching for any cracks in his resolve. “Both of us?”

“Honestly, this wasn’t how I pictured it,” Ignis confessed. “Well…” And he blushed, and Noctis mouthed a silent exclamation of surprise, “I never thought…” He inhaled a deep breath; let it out again. “Yes, I want it.”

“You’re his favourite pillow-talk,” Nyx said — commenting on the weather again.

“Nyx, I swear—”

But Nyx chuckled, resonant and wonderful, and dripped lubricant onto his fingers. 

“At least pillow-talk is better than fine-print,” Noctis mused. Ignis groaned and pulled him into a kiss, a smile wide on his lips. 

“Noct, I swear—”

But whatever Ignis was about to say was cut short by a cry of pleasure, and Noctis knew Nyx had entered him, and was pushing in deeper, one slickened finger breaking him slowly, just the way Ignis liked it most. Ignis’ eyes fluttered, but he held Noctis’ gaze, though his eyes were instantly disconnected, their brilliant green fogged by new distractions.

He kissed Noctis inconsistently, wrapping him in his arms so they were, the whole length of them, skin to skin, and as Nyx worked another finger in and moved with more freedom, Ignis’ cock slid against Noctis’ abdomen in a gathering smear of its own precome. And as Nyx quickened his pace, adding a third finger, Ignis rocked against Noctis with each thrust, a rhythm that lulled the both of them until it abruptly stopped, and their kissing stopped, and they looked at each other through lidded eyes while they listened to Nyx tear open a foil packet, then roll a condom down his length. Without saying a word, he lay down at Ignis’ back, lifting Ignis’ leg just enough to locate himself before easing himself in.

And that was all of it — Noctis was watching as his secret lover was getting fucked by another man — and he was so enthralled by the pleasure playing out across Ignis’ face, he found himself wishing only for many more opportunities to witness the same. 

He didn’t feel any sense of abandonment as Ignis’ fell slack against him, giving all of his attention to his penetration; he didn’t feel jealous of the pleasure; he only felt like this was right somehow, that everything had come together exactly as it should. That this would be good for the both of them — wonderful, even — beautiful and exciting, and if the sounds Ignis was making were any indication, it could be earth-shattering with some regularity. 

“Up you get,” Nyx said, his voice surprisingly gentle, and he guided Ignis onto his knees until he was sitting back in Nyx’s lap. Nyx was hitting all new places within him, and Ignis cried out his pleasure, wholly given over to it, blissfully unaware of how loud he was. Nyx was right: debauchery really did suit him.

Now Noctis could see Nyx over Ignis’ shoulder, could watch Ignis’ cock bob up and down, and he could see Nyx entering Ignis between Ignis’ spread thighs, the glistening length of him opening Ignis easily, disappearing inside of him again and again. He was fascinated by that juncture; many times he’d traced that seam while he was the one buried deep inside, enjoying the way Ignis’ muscle expanded and took him, and he’d fucked Ignis with fingers spread either side of his hole just to feel their sex in every way possible, with his whole self, from inside and out. And now he wanted to feel someone else’s sex — to know what that was like too, some other cock running through his fingers, pushing deep inside Ignis’ body.

He took Ignis in a deep kiss, surprising him momentarily, but quickly finding it reciprocated. Then he reached between them and beneath, around Ignis’ tightened balls to press at his rim, to feel the extent of his stretch around Nyx’s unyielding girth with each new thrust and how eagerly Ignis took all of him. 

“Gods fuck,” Nyx groaned, “I thought you said he was sheltered,” and he slowed his movement, savouring Noctis’ intrusion. 

“Sheltered,” Ignis panted, “and therefore very curious.” 

“I’m right here, you know,” Noctis said, though he didn’t really mind; everything Ignis had told Nyx somehow warmed him like a compliment, as though Ignis couldn’t help but share these precious secrets now that he finally had someone else he could trust with them. 

“You have slender fingers,” Nyx said to Noctis. “Really nice fingers,” he added, and he licked his bottom lip. “I think you could slide one in.”

Ignis convulsed at hearing that — an uncontrolled desire response — and he pulled Noctis against him, burying his face in Noctis’ neck, nuzzling him hungrily.

“I want you,” he whispered, and kissed Noctis’ neck wetly, and Noctis couldn’t deny him; not when hearing those words set his skin alight, just as they always had. 

He ran his fingertip around the point of union, pressing at it, testing it, and Nyx pulled all the way out to let him slip one finger deep inside Ignis’ loosened opening. Then Nyx realigned himself, nesting his head at the entrance. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Do it,” Ignis growled, and he keened, rapturous, as Nyx pushed his way back in again, stretching him wider than he’d ever been before. 

From the claustrophobia of Ignis’ vice-like embrace, Noctis felt all of it: the fluttering of Ignis’ muscle as it relented, the heat of Nyx’s cock, the ceaseless pump of his thick shaft and the soft slap of his balls that accompanied each return to apex.

Then, finally, a hand wrapped tight around Noctis’ neglected cock. Ignis had him, and with perfect pressure was pumping him in time with his own fuck, pulling him into imminence just as he neared his own crescendo. Ignis came hard and gasping, spending copiously against Noctis’ cock, and seconds later Noctis joined him in kind, unable to contain an ecstatic cry at his release. 

“I am doomed if you’re going to make gorgeous sounds like that,” Nyx muttered, and within three thrusts he was on the brink, and a fourth took him tumbling over, and Noctis felt all of that too — the surge from within, the pulse of his orgasm, the subsequent slackening as he softened, the loss of him as he withdrew. Noctis drew his finger out last of all, and Ignis collapsed back onto the cushions between them, throwing an arm across his eyes.

Nyx busied himself for a moment tying off the condom, then turned back to Noctis.

“May I?” he asked, for the third time that night, running his fingertips along the length of Noctis’ jaw, tilting it up towards him. He leaned forward and touched his lips to Noctis’, a prelude to the real kiss that came next, sensual, tender and sincere. Until that moment, Ignis was the only person Noctis had ever kissed… 

When Nyx pulled away, there was a strange smile tilting his mouth. 

“What is it?” Noctis asked.

“You kiss exactly the same way he does,” Nyx said, and he lay down beside Ignis, wrapping his limbs around him. “Shouldn’t really be a surprise, I guess. Come on,” and he motioned for Noctis to join them. “Compulsory after-sex cuddles.” 

Noctis tentatively laid himself down beside them, only to instantly be pulled into Ignis’ arms and held tight. He accepted it for what it was: an affirmation of their connection, and how unbreakable their bond always would be. 

“You’re really alright?” Ignis asked him, quietly, privately. He propped himself on an elbow so he could look down at Noctis, stroking his cheek as he did. 

“I think so, yeah. You?”

And Ignis smiled. “Very.”

“Don’t think this gets you out of our talk,” Nyx said. Then he paused a moment, and chuckled. “Sure was a nice way to break the ice though, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> 10 March 2021 -- Minor edits, & a massive expression of gratitude for everyone who reads this. I waved it away as PWP, but clearly invested more into it than that. Seeing everyone respond to it all in the comments means an incredibly huge amount to me -- thank you ❤
> 
> A few things became really important to showcase:   
> \- At 20/22 Noctis and Ignis are young and inexperienced. I wanted this to be a real challenge for both of them -- but a good one. A learning opportunity, with Nyx demonstrating by example how differently they could choose to proceed.  
> \- Ignis and Noctis have this incredible, untouchable, primary bond, and now matter how adorable someone's dimples are, nothing can break it.  
> \- There is a two-way imbalance, and that is okay. Ignis and Nyx are intimate; Ignis and Noctis are irrevocable. It's okay if Nyx and Noctis bond more through getting off together than they do through actual romantic connections. The most important things are open communication and boundaries!  
> \- Noctis can take Nyx on a good day. By the end of this fic, he may be able to take Nyx several ways... Hmm..


End file.
